Chapter 11.

Sam was cleaning guns in the armoury when Jules called. She was scrupulous about checking in and keeping him informed. "Hey, Jules!" he said, "How's it going?"

"Three ghouls dealt with." she said, "Dirty fighters, but so are we. We'll be home in around two and a half hours, maybe a little longer. Cody wants to stop somewhere for food."

Cody Bremer was a hunter from Wichita who had sought out the Winchesters some time ago. A former marine, he had some serious battle skills and a big appetite and always seemed to get hungry after a hunt. Sam had recommended him to Jules for her team and Cody had more than proved his worth since joining.

"Feed him well. He deserves it." he said, "No hurry to get home. Things are quiet here."

"How's Cas?" she said.

"Cas went to Ionia with Dean." he said.

"That has to be good, right?" she said.

"Has to be." he agreed, "Proves Dean is serious about getting over his issues with angels."

"I think our angel is the only one he cares about." she said.

"Yeah, well, our angel is the only one worth caring about."

"The exception to everyone's angel issues." she said, "I hope he's okay. This thing with Dean isn't easy for him."

"No, I know."

"I know it's worse for Dean. I can't imagine what it's like, to have one of those winged freaks controlling you, living inside you. I hated being near them."

"And Dean never liked to surrender control to anyone." said Sam.

"He's not a man who would settle happily into blind obedience." she said, "That's more Castiel's thing."

"Even he doesn't do that now."

"No, but breaking free of the habit was hard for him. How are you doing, now Dean's back?"

"I'm doing great." he said, "I was dreading what state he would be in when he reappeared, but he's rational and he's capable and it's so good to know he's with Sarah, addressing his problems, rather than locked in his room marinating in them."

"You wish you were with him." she said.

"Yeah, but I get why he doesn't want me there. I just keep reminding myself, it could all be a lot worse. He came back wounded, as we knew he would, but not corrupted or broken or destroyed. He'll get through this. He'll be stronger than ever and he and Cas will be stronger than ever and they both know where to find me if they need my help."

"Sam, they'll always need your help."

In the background, he heard Cody say, "Is that Sam? Did you tell him about the fight?"

"Is there something I should know about the fight, Jules?" said Sam.

"Cody just likes telling the stories." said Jules, "So I'll leave that to him." There was something she wasn't saying.

"Did someone get hurt?" said Sam.

"I was distracted and one of them punched me. Not a big deal. If Cas asks, just tell him I have a slight bruise. It doesn't even hurt. I'm just a little worried, because Cas hates physical injury to me. I have to distract him from my scars when he sees them. Fortunately, he's easily distracted."

"Not always."

"You don't have my relationship with him. I can distract him very easily. He likes my tattoo."

Sam smirked to himself. "I don't think it's the tattoo he likes. I think it might be the hip."

"Either way, it distracts him well."

"It would." said Sam.

Jules spoke to her team for a moment, sending them to load the Jeep. Then she said to Sam, "How would you feel about me talking to Dean? I mean, I have some experience of angel problems."

"Talking to Dean about stuff that matters is a delicate process." he said, "He can clam up so fast and even when he will talk, he can't always listen."

"I just thought maybe I'd buy him a drink and see if I can help."

"It's worth a try." he said. Jules was good with other hunters, understanding of their different levels of denial, anger and avoidance, skilled at getting to what was really bothering them when they swore at a shotgun or yelled at the TV. She herself carried a lot of tightly-packaged trauma and she barely mentioned any of it. She knew every tactic Dean used to avoid talking, because they were all part of her toolkit of repression too.

Just as she understood Dean, Sam understood her. All three of them focused on helping others as a way to forget or at least conceal their own troubles. Maybe, in getting Dean to open up about the angel stuff, she might talk a little about her apocalypse. Cas had tried to get her to do that, but she was especially hesitant to discuss with him anything concerning celestial matters. She knew, as did Sam, how often he heard any criticism of angels as a personal rebuke.

Perhaps, talking with Dean in a bar, the natural habitat of so many hunters, she could say more and maybe, with nobody he needed to protect around, talking to a fellow survivor of angelic evil, Dean would be able to talk more freely. Whatever happened, it would get Dean out of the bunker for an evening.

"I think it's a good idea." he said, "I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Have some cold beers ready."

"They're already waiting for you." he said.

He put his phone away and went to wash the gun oil from his hands. For a moment, they didn't look like his hands, but like his father's. He remembered watching his father do the same thing after cleaning his guns and he could remember wondering if his hands would ever grow so large and strong and competent.

He was a hunter, with a hunter's hands. He could load a gun without thinking, aim a crossbow instinctively, sever a head with one clean swing of a machete. He had grown up into a man his younger self would neither recognise nor understand.

So often, as a kid, he had stared at the stranger in the mirror, longing to know who he was, or could be. For too many years, he had been too busy running away to see clearly who that man was. When he stopped to catch his breath, at college, he had thought maybe the man was a lawyer. Certainly, he could not be a hunter, like Dean or Dad. But then, that was part of the problem. He could never hope to be like Dean or Dad and the fierce pride in his soul would never come to terms with being their pale reflection. Better to excel at mediocrity than try and fail to shine as a hero.

Saving the world a few times should have boosted his confidence and it had, a little, but the biggest boost had been something else. The hunters he now worked with were some of the best. They didn't say, "I knew your father. He was a better hunter than you." They frequently assumed John Winchester's ability because they had seen that of his sons. They respected Sam. Even Dean respected Sam. Surrounded by the esteem and encouragement of hunters he could truly respect, Sam finally felt like Sam Winchester, hunter. He finally felt like John Winchester's son and worthy to stand beside Dean Winchester, whether or not Dean felt able to let him be that close.